Praise the hermit, regret the friend
by doroniasobi
Summary: This can't be pretty.— FujiOC
1. prologue pt1

**notes** ... so hi i'm back! ish! i've had the idea for an idea of this fic (an idea of an idea. how poetic) for a really long time now! and then the elements added themselves in recently and i knew i was screwed so i ended up cranking something out. i'm kind of wary about posting this because what if i'm satisfied and then i don't finish it (like all of my other crap)?! lol. in any case. please enjoy this nonsense. (for those of you that are waiting for angst, it will come! in this fic! eventually! by eventually i mean if i ever reach the end. but that's okay, one step at a time!)

 **warning** unedited, unbeta'd, i-just-really-needed-to-get-this-out-of-my-system fic, etc, etc. title taken from the beginning lines of "London" by Samuel Johnson, which is an imitation of Juvenal's third satire.

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

When his sister comes home squealing about The Amazing Fuji Syuusuke-kun, Naoto's first reaction is to roll his eyes and throw his pillow over his eyes. Are you listening, his sister asks. No, he thinks but does not say; he has learned early on that women can be dangerous.

"Nii-chan," she is gushing. Moe's cheeks are flushed and she's doing that thing where her arms are crossed over her chest and her palms dig into her armpits. He's told her so many times how unladylike she looks when she does that. "He's gorgeous," she rambles on. "He's in second year. He plays tennis. Fuji-kun is like, a dream come true."

"That's great," Naoto says dryly. "Can you tell I don't care, or do I need to make it more obvious?"

"Can you do something using your senpai authority?" Moe insists. "I want an excuse to talk to him."

"Uh no," Naoto snorts. "If he's in his second year, then I probably won't ever run into him. I don't even know what he looks like. Aren't you too young to be thinking about boys?"

"You're fourteen and you're already thinking about girls," she counters. "And if you'd actually walked around school with me today you'd have noticed him! He's beautiful."

Ooh. Naoto leans forward. "If you can introduce me to a girl that's equally beautiful as you say he is then I'll think about it."

"Yes," she says, hopping up and down excitedly. "Yes yes yes."

She hums all through dinner and plays obnoxiously loud love songs on her music player before she sleeps. At one point in the middle of the night, Naoto finds himself awake at two in the morning listening to J-pop through the walls.

He's happy for her, kind of. He's happy that she's excited. At the age of twelve, Moe is spirited, fun, and friendly. He's gone from watching her poop in her pants to holding a microphone in her hands on a stage at her elementary graduation event. When Moe was ten, Naoto was twelve, and it had come up in conversation that their parents were thinking about moving, he'd yelled at her for being a crybaby. Her fists were small as she bat at him, crying endlessly because _you don't even care about me, you don't even care how I feel, don't you try to understand my feelings_.

Naoto screws his eyes shut, thinks about this Amazing Fuji Syuusuke, and wonders if he can make her happy.

.

His argument for not wanting to go to school is that he didn't want to be The Third Year Transfer Student, which, according to his parents, is not a very good argument. Naoto watches crowds of students walk through the gates and scowls, shuffling his feet back and forth. After a while, he looks at his watch; he has fifteen minutes until classes begin. Moe's already run off, having run into a friend, and is probably discussing more Fuji Syuusuke-esque things about Fuji Syuusuke.

A loud yell across the gate sounds and a large bus pulls up to the front of the school with a loud honk. Naoto turns, alarmed. There's a small group of students dressed head to toe in athletic attire making their way over. What is this, Naoto thinks, Seigaku's own limousine? Is Seigaku even known for their athletics department? Is Seigaku known for anything at all?

It looks like it, in any case. The voices near, and in an attempt to get out of their way, Naoto takes a few steps backward so they can pass by. As they do, something small falls drops from one of the bags and lands on the ground in front of him. Naoto picks it up, curious.

"Ah, sorry, that's mine."

Naoto's gaze flickers up at the sound of a rather feminine voice. A shorter boy is jogging back towards him. Naoto looks back down at the item he's holding. It's a tennis ball keychain.

The boy stops in front of him, smiling kindly. "I must have dropped it. Thank you for picking it up." His hand reaches out.

Naoto hands it to him, blinking slowly. "No problem," he says. He looks towards the bus, where there's already a crowd gathering. "Is that… are you part of that?"

The boy chuckles. "Well, yes. There's a tennis tournament today. We're meant to play."

"Well yeah, of course, but…" The crowd behind them is loud, and Naoto looks towards them, wincing as a camera flashes in his eyes. "Are they—is this usually what happens?"

"I suppose," he chuckles, still smiling. "It can get a little out of hand, but it's usually better when you think about them as support."

"That's fair," Naoto says. From a distance, he catches sight of his sister, flushed and bright-eyed. She's looking over here too, and Naoto can't remember the last time he's seen her this excited for something not about her. But—oh. Right, tennis. Purely and merely out of curiosity, Naoto says, "Say, this is the tennis club, right, so you wouldn't happen to know a—"

A calm hand placed on his shoulder silences Naoto immediately. The boy in front of him smiles apologetically and is it just him or did the crowd get a little louder—wow, this guy looks a little like a girl from this angle—

"—apologise, but I really need to be going. My team is waiting for me. I'll see you around."

Naoto nods, raising a hand as the boy makes his way through the crowd and onto the bus. It drives away with a loud roar and out of sight, just as the school bell rings. And as soon as it had come together, the crowd disperses, people scattering around to attend to their own schedules.

Moe finds him in a daze still by the school gate and kicks him in the ankle as hard as she can.

"Ow!"

"You didn't tell me you already knew him, nii-chan!" She kicks him again.

" _Ow_! What, what! Know who?"

"Fuji Syuusuke! You were just talking to him, weren't you! I saw you!"

"I— _what_?"

Moe's eyebrows furrow. "The guy you were just talking to. You don't know?"

Fuji Syuusuke? Him? "I just picked something up for him. I had no idea who he was. He didn't even tell me his name." But. Now he knows.

Moe's shoulders droop. "Oh."

Naoto smiles a little. He's about to pat her shoulder when she perks right back up, hands automatically coming up to clasp his arm in her excitement.

"You _saw_ him though, didn't you? Isn't he stunning? The atmosphere around him, it's like… like he's a celebrity or something!"

"Yeah," Naoto says, blinking. "Sure. I guess?"

Moe huffs a little. "You wouldn't understand, nii-chan, do you know how many people would love to just have a conversation with him? I bet everyone was jealous of you just now."

Naoto thinks about Fuji Syuusuke's smile. "I'm sure he's not that difficult to talk to. He looked pretty friendly to me."

"Wait until you watch him play tennis! He's pretty amazing."

Naoto turns his head in the way the bus had left. It had gone for a while now, though somehow Naoto felt as though he'd been pacified by his presence. Now that he'd actually met Fuji Syuusuke, he could see why so many people were fascinated by him.

And at the same time, knowing this—would be his downfall.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	2. prologue pt2

**note** oh look an update! for those wondering, when i mention 'football', i'm referring to soccer and not american football. sorry for the confusion(?) i have a pretty good idea how i want this fic to end. whether we'll get there i'm still not too sure about, considering this fic still hasn't started yet. it sort of went differently than i thought it would. let's hope i'll have time to crank the rest of it out. i am literally writing this in between classes so we'll see! in the meantime, enjoy.

 **warning** not everything is a disaster just yet but still sort of disaster. (as in, my writing. my writing is a disaster.)

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

Honestly speaking, Naoto's more of a fan of football than he is of tennis. But there's a subtle charm to tennis he can't quite place, and he finds himself on the bleachers after school watching the tennis team practice. Already, there's a crowd of girls gathering behind the fence, chattering animatedly. Naoto spots Fuji Syuusuke almost immediately among the blue jerseys, but his eyes aren't focused on the crowd behind him. He's in a stance on the far side of the court, legs spread in a defensive stance as one of the other second-years (is his name Kawamura?) smashes it over the net.

"Higuma otoshi!"

"It's coming!"

What's coming, Naoto wonders, until suddenly Fuji Syuusuke does a sudden spin, twisting his racquet to hit the ball with his arms spread out. The tennis ball is lobbed to the other side of the net, and Fuji Syuusuke has his eyes closed.

Naoto is stunned. Is tennis usually played like this? What in the world was that?

From his position on the court, Fuji Syuusuke looks up and catches his gaze. His eyes are open. Embarrassed, Naoto raises his hand awkwardly in a tiny wave. Fuji Syuusuke closes his eyes, smiles, and waves back.

"He opened his eyes!"

"That's how focused he was! He's so cool."

"Fuji!"

Fuji Syuusuke turns around. It's another second year this time, the one that called his name. Glasses and spiky hair. "What is it, Tezuka?"

He holds out a towel. As Fuji Syuusuke takes it from him, Tezuka crosses his arms. "Just making sure you aren't slacking off."

Fuji looks confused for a second before chuckling. "If that's all then I don't think I'm your problem." He gestures to the bickering pair of first years over by the water fountain. "You might want to check with the first years over there."

Tezuka lets out a quiet sigh and Fuji places a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "It's not easy, is it?"

Naoto watches the exchange curiously from afar. The two of them exchange a few more words before they part and Naoto is surprised when Fuji excuses himself from the courts and jogs his way over to where he's been watching. Fuji slows down to a walk as he nears, lowering his head politely.

"I might have come across rude upon our first meeting," Fuji says, "and so I wanted to apologise."

Naoto remembers Fuji's hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm. "That's fine, don't worry about it. No need to apologise, really."

"I don't think it occurred to me at the time that you were an upper class student."

Naoto waves it off with a hand. "Well, I'm not offended. I'm still pretty lost. I only transferred in this year." He stares down at his shoes awkwardly before asking, "how did your tournament go?"

"We did pretty well," Fuji says, tilting his head to the left. "We've still got a long way to go. Our captain is putting us through a lot of practice to prepare for our next match."

"Your captain?"

Fuji turns around, eyes searching. "The one standing near the freshman crowd, there. I was talking to him a while ago, I'm not sure if you noticed."

The one with the glasses. Naoto nods, frowning a little. "He's… also a second year?"

"That's right. We're good friends." Fuji looks at him curiously. "Do you play tennis, senpai?"

Naoto blinks. Senpai? And then—right, he's the older one. In many ways, it doesn't feel like it. "Ah, no. I… football. I don't play, but I enjoy watching football."

"Oh? What's your favourite team?"

Um. Naoto hasn't really thought about this before. "The one that's winning, I guess."

The corners of Fuji's mouth lift. "I see."

"You were really cool, though." Naoto stretches his arms out, just like he'd seen Fuji do during his practice match. "This move. What's it called?"

Fuji laughs. "Higuma otoshi. You look kind of like a plane."

"Well, that's what you looked like on the court. I'm probably not doing it right at all, though. No one ever wants to play charades with me."

There's a small sparkle in Fuji's eye, and Naoto straightens, strangely pleased. He picks his schoolbag up and hefts it over his shoulder. "Well, I've got to get going. You probably want to get changed, too."

"Well, I'll be around here for a little longer for some extra practice. Thank you for coming by to watch. I'll excuse myself, now." Fuji's about to turn, but then he makes a strange expression and pivots back around. "Sorry, senpai—did I get your name?"

Oh. "Tokuda. Tokuda Naoto."

"Tokuda-senpai," Fuji repeats slowly. "I'm Fuji Syuusuke."

"I know," Naoto says. "My sister's a really big fan. She's a freshman. Since we transferred, she's been really idolising you and your tennis."

"I'm grateful," Fuji replies, lowering his head. "Tell her I said thank you."

"I will."

"See you around, senpai." Fuji Syuusuke bows, and Naoto watches him go. Fuji Syuusuke walks quickly and carefully. Slowly but deliberately: heel-toe, heel-toe.

.

A knock on her door. "…Hey."

Moe looks up from her magazine. She takes one earbud out and pouts. "What?"

"Why do you like him?"

"Fuji-senpai?"

Naoto nods from the doorway.

"He's pretty! And he's cool. Everyone else really likes him, too."

"Hmmm."

She sits up straighter in her chair. "Are you going to introduce me to him?"

Naoto invites himself into her room and, with one big motion, flops himself down on her bed. Moe stands up and pokes at him. He groans in response.

"Well?"

"Did you know his eyes are blue?"

"You saw his eyes?"

"I saw his tennis practice."

With a sharp, excited gasp, Moe folds her arms and tucks her hands into her armpits. "Did you get to talk to him at all? He's really nice, isn't he?"

"Well, he knows you exist now." He rolls over into a sitting position and pinches her ear, making her squeal. "Say, Moe. How do you think I would do in the tennis club? Would I suck royally? Or do you think I could make it as a regular?"

Moe pushes his hand away. " _You_? Tennis?"

"What?"

"Remember when mom made you do football in elementary school and you threatened to run away from home because you hated playing in competitions?"

"Well, it was just a thought," Naoto said defensively, although he _did_ remember how much he hated it. Competing, not football. "It's not like I'm actually thinking about joining the tennis club."

"I mean, I don't think you're bad at sports. Mostly you're just good at running. You're like Forrest Gump. Doing stuff without thinking too much about it. I mean, at least he had a girl to keep him grounded. You're just floating."

"Floating," Naoto repeats, shooting her a look.

"Yes." Moe punches him in the shoulder. "Did Fuji-senpai say anything else to you? Did he ask about me?"

"No and no," Naoto snorts. "Go back to whatever you were doing, squirt. I'm going to sleep." He pushes off the bed and slides across the room to the door.

"Night, nii-chan."

Naoto hesitates only a little. "Night." As he closes the door behind him, he lets out a small sigh and presses his palms to his face.

He's thinking way too much.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	3. prologue pt3

**notes** my exams are done and in the midst of trying to write this part, i've realised exactly how boring my writing reads when i'm not cranking out anything emotional.

 **warning** still disaster. read at your own risk.

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

It's during another practice when Naoto finally does introduce Moe to Fuji Syuusuke. Her hands are twitchy and she's pinching the sleeve of Naoto's blazer. Her cheeks are red and her knees are buckled together. She's got herself practically glued to his side and Naoto tolerates the contact for a few minutes before deciding that he's had enough. He takes a small step to the side to bump his hip against hers, and Moe loses her balance, tripping over her own feet as she stumbles.

"You look like you're holding in your pee," Naoto comments.

"I'm trying to stay calm," she gasps, hands grabbing at the collar of her own uniform. "I don't believe this. This isn't happening. Why did you think this was a good idea. Can I leave?"

"Might I remind you that you were the one who wanted this? Masochism isn't a healthy way of living, I'll remind you now. In the future when you inevitably blame me on how awfully you turned out there's no wonder I'll have the upper hand."

"Is this your sister?"

Mao jumps and spins around, a shrill, high-pitched noise erupting from her throat. Naoto raises a hand to greet Fuji, and when Fuji makes to bow, Naoto's eyebrows furrow a little.

"You don't need to do that, we're only one year apart."

Fuji smiles. "I consider this more of a casual greeting, actually." He looks at Moe, whose eyes are fixated on him. "Hello there."

Moe takes a tiny step forward and bows stiffly in one big action, folding her hands together. Naoto snorts. "It's very nice to meet you, Fuji-senpai!" She stands up, although she's still unable to meet his gaze. "I've, uh, I'm a really, really big fan."

"Thank you," Fuji replies. "So I've heard." His smile is wide. "Have you always been interested in tennis?"

Moe sputters nervously. "To be honest, not really. I don't know much about tennis. One of my classmates is in the tennis club and I just followed them because I was curious. But I watched you play for the first time a little while ago, and I think the way you play tennis is incredibly unique and beautiful. Like, you're incredible, Fuji-senpai. I'm sure you hear this a lot, though."

How honest, Naoto thinks, watching his sister spill out her tinny little heart. Like a fruit gusher. It's kind of endearing.

Fuji has a genuine smile on his face as he looks at her. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I'm glad you think so." He looks at Naoto. "The two of you must get along very well."

Moe rolls her eyes and scoffs. "I don't know about that. I'm pretty convinced he's adopted."

"Hey. You should be worshipping at my feet for the rest of your life, you little animal. You were the one who wanted—remember? 'Introduce me to Fuji-senpai! Nii-chan, introduce me to Fuji-senpai! He's so cool and charming and he's like amazing in every single way and—'"

"Noooooo," Moe squeals, yanking at his arm. "Stop that!"

Fuji smiles. "I'm a little jealous. My siblings and I don't get along nearly as well as the two of you do."

Siblings?

"Right," Moe says, chattering excitedly. "Fuji Yuuta-kun is in the same class as me! I've tried to talk to him a couple of times but he's always ignored me."

"Fuji Yuuta?" Naoto blinks.

"My younger brother," Fuji clarifies. "I have an older sister too."

"Sounds like a party," Naoto comments, making a face. God only knows how much chaos he'd be forced to endure if his family acquired another Moe. He shudders.

As though she'd been reading the expression on his face, Moe punches him. "Stop that."

"…You know what, I don't know why Mom and Dad decided to have you. You're so violent."

"It's because you weren't good enough for them."

"Yeah, but _you're_ the reason they stopped having children."

Fuji watches the interaction, perplexed. His shoulders shake with mirth as he chuckles. "What an interesting dynamic. I'm a little jealous."

Naoto frowns. "It's not like this at your place?"

He shakes his head.

Naoto grabs Moe's wrist and offers it to him. "Here. You can try living with her, then."

Moe goes red. " _Nii-chan_!"

"For free," Naoto adds, in case Fuji's not convinced. "Don't worry, it'll be an experience."

"Why are you doing this to me," Moe squeaks, covering her face with her hands.

Fuji watches, amused. "She's very different than I thought she'd be."

Naoto winces, and then sighs. "Yeah, she's sort of… uh." What's an nicer way to say 'not adorable'? "She's kind of a menace?" He braces himself, but when Moe doesn't lash out at him immediately he looks up, wondering what had managed to draw her attention.

And well. It looks like she hadn't been paying him any attention at all. She's already distracted, waving at another boy by the water fountains. "Fuji-kun!" she yells.

Fuji?

A quick glance Naoto directs at Fuji confirms his thoughts; Fuji Yuuta lifts his head, towel draped over his shoulder. He looks almost nothing like Fuji Syuusuke, aside from the brown hair and slender figure. He has none of Fuji Syuusuke's elegance, none of his effortless grace. Instead, there's a briskness about him. An unwavering, fierce look in his eyes.

There's an odd pause before Fuji Yuuta scuffles his way over, nodding at Moe before coming to a stop a few feet away.

"You did well in practice today," Fuji says. "I was watching."

Fuji Yuuta doesn't look at him. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up briefly at Naoto. "Hello."

Awkward. "Hi," Naoto says. "I'm Moe's brother."

Fuji Yuuta nods slowly. His eyebrows are furrowed just the slightest bit. "I need to go and change." He looks at Fuji. "I'm gonna go first, then."

Fuji's smile looks out of place. "Okay. I'll see you at home."

Without another word, Fuji Yuuta jogs away.

Fuji's voice is quiet and steady. "Moe-chan."

Moe jumps. "Me? What? Yes?"

"How is Yuuta in class?"

Taken aback by the sudden question, Moe blinks slowly. "He's pretty… quiet. I mean, he has a few friends, but it doesn't look like he particularly likes being at school. I don't know, I really can't say."

"That's pretty common though," Naoto says. "I don't like being at school, either."

"Yeah, but you're a different issue all together."

It's hard to judge the look on Fuji's face. "I see."

"It could just be the adjustment to a new school," Naoto suggests. "I'm sure he'll be feeling better about the environment in a few weeks or so."

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Fuji sighs. The corner of his mouth quirks up in an attempt at a half-hearted smile. "Perhaps."

And, as Naoto observes the troubled look on Fuji Syuusuke's face, that was the end of that.

.

"So like," is how Moe starts the conversation on their way home, "that was pretty cool."

"Was it?"

"Yes. Fuji-senpai and I are now acquaintances, even if it's through you."

Naoto balks. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm trying to compliment you!"

"How is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Well, it's a work in progress." She skips along the sidewalk gleefully. "He's really nice, like I thought. Actually, you two get along a lot better than I expected."

"Now what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I don't know." Moe kicks a pebble out of her way. "You're actually kind of friends with him. How did you even manage that?"

Friends? "I don't know if that's how I'd describe our relationship," Naoto admits. "I mean, all the conversations I've had with him have been pretty generic."

"That's because you're a boring person."

True, Naoto thinks briefly, but he's far too distracted to feel offended. He doesn't know anything about Fuji Syuusuke. How many times do you need to talk to someone to know them? And if they are friends like Moe assumes they are, then how had they gotten to that point? What do friends like them even talk about with each other? But of course, the only reason he'd been inclined to approach him in the first place was…

Naoto stares at Moe, who is already at the crosswalk at the end of the street and waiting for the light to change.

The distance between them is vast.

In several long, quick strides, Naoto catches up to his sister. While they wait for the light together, he bumps his hip against hers. She stumbles, stepping off the curb for just a second before doing the same to him.

"On a scale from one to ten, how much do you like him?"

Moe looks up suspiciously. "Why?"

"I'm just curious."

"Well, I don't know." Then she stops. "I'll race you across the street to the next block."

What? "What?"

"Ready, set, go!"

Naoto looks up at the light when Moe sprints across the road. The sound of her laughter rattles something in his skull and forces out a disbelieving chuckle of his own. The wind blows hard against his face. In slow motion, he sees Moe run farther and farther out, until only a speck of her remains in his vision.

He runs.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	4. prologue pt4

**notes** !there are still a few days before i go back to the education facility for summer. university burns me out. still awkward writing.

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

"Tokuda-kun," their homeroom teacher calls during their self-study period. "Would you mind taking these files to the faculty room?"

Naoto finds himself meandering down the hallways on a Wednesday morning, whistling under his breath. The folders are heavy and if sensei hadn't called him out, he probably would have tried to get out of the chore. But in a rare opportunity of freedom, Naoto ends up making spontaneous plans to take a ten-minute nap in the library instead of going back to class.

"Not like we do any learning in self-study anyway," Naoto mutters to himself, hopping down the stairs and pushing the door to the corridor open.

"I don't _want_ you looking for me on the first floor anymore."

That sounds like a voice he knows.

"Yuuta—"

Okay, now that's definitely a voice he knows. Naoto peers around the corner, recognising Fuji Syuusuke and his brother. They look like they're deep in conversation, but the thought of eavesdropping doesn't even occur to Naoto; he's too preoccupied with figuring out how to pass by without disrupting them. He slumps against the wall, covering his face in his hands. They're definitely going to notice him if he just walks by. Is there another place he can nap?

"Aniki, honestly, you're so annoying sometimes."

Naoto freezes. That sounded harsh.

"—to get out your way. I'm sorry…" A pause. "… if it felt like that."

"…'m gonna go back to class."

Are they leaving? Naoto stands up. But any further thought he has doesn't even have time to process before the sound of a door is opening and Fuji Yuuta is suddenly right in front of him.

Naoto screams first.

"Wha—" Fuji Yuuta jumps back a few feet, face turning red.

"Sorry!" Naoto says, hands flying upwards. "I just… wanted to go this way but you guys were busy and I didn't want to interrupt, and… what, I had no idea you were even coming this way. Why are your footsteps so quiet? You gotta fix that somehow, some people need warning before they freak out."

Fuji Yuuta's still staring at him like he's grown an extra head. Naoto opens his mouth to try and explain himself again, but another voice cuts in.

"Senpai?"

Naoto wants to curl up and disappear. What kind of situation is this, anyway? This kind of thing only happens to characters in sappy shoujo manga.

Wait. Naoto straightens. Did he just liken his own role to that of a female protagonist?

Fuji Syuusuke is looking at him strangely. "Were you here this whole time?"

"Kind of," Naoto admits. "But I didn't hear much. I mean. I was just trying to pass by?" How does he get out of this?

Yuuta's scowling now, but his gaze doesn't quite meet Naoto's as he excuses himself, heading in the same way he'd come from.

Naoto waits for his footsteps to fade before he slumps back down against the wall. "I don't know what just happened," he says to no one in particular.

Fuji chuckles. "I can kind of understand that. I'm not sure I know what just happened, either."

Naoto looks at him. "You don't?"

Fuji leans against the wall next to Naoto and lets out a sigh. "Maybe I'm just making things harder for the both of us."

"… I'm guessing you're not talking about how I tried to hide here anymore?"

A laugh. "Are you skipping class?"

Naoto thinks about how to answer, although Fuji's very subtle way of turning the conversation around doesn't escape his notice. "I was running an errand. And then I decided to take the scenic route back to the classroom." Naoto looks at Fuji. "Are _you_ skipping class?"

"No," is the initial reply. Then, after a few seconds, "Well. Probably."

Naoto's laughter rings loudly in the corridor. "Good on you. Even students need a break sometimes, don't they?"

Fuji Syuusuke smiles. How odd, Naoto thinks, the thought surprising him as it had never occurred to him. For someone who smiles so much, it rarely seems as though his own thoughts are reflected in them. "I'm sorry you had to see that, senpai. It's unfortunate, but the two of us don't get along as well you do with Moe-chan."

"Of course," Naoto says, shrugging. "Every situation is different."

"It's strange, how relationships like this can change. Often I wonder if I was a good brother to him." Fuji looks down. "Other times I wonder if I could have been better."

Naoto is quiet.

"But there's no way I can help him now," Fuji continues. "The only thing I can do is stay out of it, and at the same time, it's not something I can leave that easily."

Fuji reaches into his pocket and fishes out a keychain—the same one Naoto had picked up for him a while back. The one with the tennis ball.

"Does he hate you?"

He's surprised by his own question. Fuji looks at him, surprised. Hurriedly, Naoto tries to rephrase it. "Well, I mean, it just seems like… See, Moe says she hates me a lot even when I know she doesn't. I'm, to be honest, in no real position to judge your relationship, but…" Naoto pauses. "I feel like maybe this is something you're both just growing into."

Fuji's listening carefully.

"I don't think he hates you, if that's what you're thinking," Naoto says, because he honestly hadn't gotten that impression from him. "I think maybe he's… he's dealing with it. And this isn't to say I know either of you particularly well, but that's just the feeling I get. Sibling dynamics can be weird, sometimes. Don't get too wound up about it, I guess."

"That's difficult advice," Fuji admits after a while. "But I think I can understand." He smiles a little at Naoto. "It doesn't quite feel like you're only one year older than me, senpai."

"Are you calling me _old_?"

"In a way," Fuji remarks.

They laugh.

.

A few days later, Moe bursts through his door, jaw dropped. Naoto is roused from his mid-afternoon nap and groans.

"Why," he moans, blinking the fatigue away.

"Nii-chan! Fuji-kun transferred!"

Fuji? …Oh.

"The brother?"

Moe's flapping her arms around. "He didn't even say anything to anyone! He just…poof! And he was gone!"

Naoto turns over onto his side. "I'm… pretty sure people don't 'poof'." Moe grabs a nearby pillow and whaps him in the stomach. "Ow! What? What do you want?"

"Did Fuji-senpai say anything to you about this?"

"I—no? Why, why are you so concerned about this…" He trails off. "… Do you have a crush on him?"

"No!"

Something's not right here. "I thought it was your beloved 'Fuji-senpai' that you had a crush on?"

"I don't like him!"

"Okay, now I don't know which 'him' you're talking about."

Moe drops the pillow she's holding and makes to leave. "I don't want to talk about this with you," she whines. "You're just going to make fun of me."

"That's kind of what I do though," Naoto points out, watching Moe march towards the door.

She sighs. "Why do you think he left? He transferred to _St. Rudolph_. They have ugly uniforms. They need to wear ties. What kind of middle-school student wears ties?"

"I guess he didn't care too much about that."

"He was my friend," Moe says sadly. Her head is low and she kind of looks like a puppy that's been punted down the block. "Why do you think Fuji-senpai's still attending Seigaku then? If they're siblings, isn't it a normal thing for them to be in the same school?"

Naoto's quiet.

 _'… to get out of your way.'_

That's what Fuji Syuusuke had said. Maybe Yuuta was planning on carving his own path through different means.

But that's not something Moe could understand now, though. And in the end, it's neither his nor Moe's business. This is not their territory.

"Lift your head up," he says finally, "and don't feel so sad about it. It's not like he's gone forever. You'll see him around, probably. Tokyo's not like a terribly big place. Smaller than America."

"America's a country. Tokyo's a city. Do you even geography?"

"I am great at geography."

"Of course."

"I just don't understand," Moe sighs. "There's nothing I could have done to stop him, right?"

 _'… it's not something I can leave that easily.'_

Naoto closes his eyes. Tries to muffle the radio static in his brain. "Yeah," he agrees. "Probably not."

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	5. prologue pt5

**notes** i'm playing pokemon GO and i'm so bad at not being lazy that i'm just walking up and down stairs in my house gAH also the prologue is done omg finally now i need to find motivation to write the rest of this fic send help

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend** **;**

* * *

In the end, Naoto does manage to graduate. It's a boring ceremony where they sing a boring song and this isn't something he can skip, he realises halfway through. His gaze drifts to the window and the cherry blossom petals scattered on the ground outside their auditorium. He'd rather be anywhere but here.

As the principal steps up to the podium, Naoto's phone buzzes in his pocket.

 _Falling asleep, I see._

Naoto smirks. His eyes dart around inconspicuously before he types out his reply. _It's rude to have your phone out during a ceremony, Fuji-kun. I only graduate from middle school once._

It's a while before he receives the next message.

 _(_ _笑_ _)_

Naoto covers his mouth to hold in a snort. One of the girls in the row in front of him turns around and glares. He ignores her.

 _How was it at Nationals? Did you do your plane technique?_

A slightly longer pause between replies. _We didn't win._

Curt. _Sorry to hear that,_ he types back. _Better luck next year?_

 _I suppose._

 _You'll do better. Hopefully some freshman prodigy will knock the socks off your opponent. Or something like that. I don't know. I meant to cheer you up. Is it working?_

 _I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you, senpai._

When Naoto receives his diploma, his gaze catches his sister, who's grinning at him cheekily from her seat. Fuji and a couple of his teammates that Naoto recognises smile politely in his direction. They look tired; Nationals must have been quite the event, then. Some of the girls in his class congratulate him on his way out and he thanks them half-heartedly, not really knowing how to react.

"Tokuda-kun!" It's one of the girls in his class.

"Yo," he says, saluting. "What's up, Ashida?"

Ashida is a pretty girl. Her glasses rest daintily on the bridge of her nose and her hair looks soft. Naoto doesn't know her well, but they've spoken often, on occasion.

She brushes her bangs out of her face. "Hey, I was wondering if I could have the second button of your blazer? If you don't have any plans to do anything with it, I mean."

He blinks. "What? My button?" He looks down. "But then I'd be missing a button. Why would you want my button?"

"It's a symbolism," she explains. "The second button is closest to your heart. You would give it to someone you like."

"Someone I like?" Is this common? "And you want mine?"

"I mean, if that's okay with you. I've had a crush on you since last year. It's okay if you don't reciprocate though—I mean, I figured you wouldn't, but can I accept it as a means to challenge that?"

Brave soul, trying to capture Tokuda Naoto's heart. He commends her greatly; he's always appreciated her frank nature. "Well, sure," he says. "Do you want me to rip it off, or?"

"Oh, no," Ashida laughs, waving her hands. "I should go get some scissors. Hold on, Kazumi-chan should have a pair in her pencil case. I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere!" She runs off.

Phew. What a day. First he graduates, and now he gets confessed to. Another guy in his class—Nakajima?—slaps him on the back. Naoto jerks, surprised.

"Nice one, Tokuda! I saw that. Ashida's a babe."

"Thanks, I guess," Naoto says.

"So many guys were into her last year! But then rumours started last year about her liking you and a lot of people gave up. You're a pretty cool dude, too. You'd look good together."

That's surprising; he didn't know any of that. "Oh, well, thanks?"

"You're going out now, right? Figures. You're headed to the same high school anyway."

"I don't really see her that way."

Nakajima's eyes grow wide. "You're not gonna go out with her?"

"I don't think so?"

"Dude! Why the heck not?"

That's a good question. "I don't really know," Naoto admits. "She's too good for me, really."

"You're pretty hot too though. I mean, you're not ugly or anything. If I was a girl I'd think to date you."

"… Thanks?"

Nakajima shrugs. "Just saying."

"I don't know, I think these days I'd rather just hang out with some chicken curry. Or yakitori. I'm really into food, you know. Pretty girls are nice, but I don't need one to live."

"That's true," Nakajima sighs. "Most people start dating in high school anyway."

"Tokuda-senpai."

Ope. "Hey," Naoto greets. Fuji approaches slowly, his schoolbag in one hand, slung over one shoulder. Nakajima looks him up and down, curious.

"Hey, you play tennis, right?"

Fuji bows. "Hello. What gave it away?"

"Probably the flock of screaming girls behind you," Naoto says, eyeing behind Fuji.

Nakajima looks between them. "I didn't know you two were friends," he says. "That's unexpected. You're not that similar to one another."

"We're not," Fuji agrees, "but we do get along quite well."

Naoto turns to him. "Did you need anything? You could have texted me or something."

"I just wanted to congratulate you. And to double check that your diploma's not just for show."

"Hey," Naoto chides. A thought occurs to him, suddenly. "You should treat me to food," he says, "since I graduated today."

Fuji looks surprised. "Today?"

"Yeah. We can go in a bit. Moe's staying after school to do some cleaning. It won't be long."

"Sure. I don't mind."

"Perfect. I'm going to eat all I want, then."

"Middle-schoolers don't a lot of allowance to begin with. But I promise I won't run away from the bill."

"No matter the amount?"

Fuji stares at him. "Well."

"Fuji."

"I'm joking."

"Jokes are meant to be funny, you know." Another idea comes to mind. He reaches down to the fourth button on his blazer and yanks it off forcefully. "Here, take this."

Fuji is appalled. "What?"

"It's the closest button to my stomach. Now you can't really go back on your promise." He drops it in the palm of Fuji's hand. "Where do you want to eat?"

Fuji ignores his question. "Is this a new sort of symbolism? Where did you even get this idea?"

Naoto thinks of Ashida. "Oh. Well."

"Tokuda-kun!" Speak of the devil. It's Ashida, running back through the crowd, pair of scissors in hand. "Here!"

"Oh right. You want me to cut it off?"

"No, I want to do it. Is that okay?"

Naoto shrugs.

Ashida doesn't even seem to notice Fuji as she slips her fingers into the lapel and slides her fingers down. Carefully, she snips the threads and lets the button fall into her palm.

Ashida smiles. "Here's to trying to get your second button for high school, too!"

"You're thinking way far ahead of yourself," Naoto says, but smiles. "Well, we'll see about that."

"You _do_ know that this is my way of confessing to you, right?" She pauses. "Wait, where did this button go?"

"Hm?"

Ashida's pointing to where the fourth button should be. It's a mess of threads, actually. "Did you give another button away?"

"Oh. Yeah. Actually, he has it," Naoto points at Fuji.

Ashida's eyes widen. "Oh my goodness. Fuji Syuusuke!"

Fuji chuckles and bows a little. "Congratulations on your graduation."

"Oh, thank you! I didn't know Tokuda-kun spoke to anyone else outside our year."

"I've come to him for advice before, actually," Fuji says. "He's very good at that."

"Advice? Really?" She looks at Naoto. "I'm learning some new things about you, today." She looks at her wristwatch. "Well, I've got to run. It was nice to talk to you, Fuji! Tokuda-kun, I'll see you around!"

"Sure," Naoto says. Making a quick note to text Mao later, he turns to Fuji. "Well then, Fuji-kun," he says, raising an eyebrow. "What would you like to eat?"

.

"It was a close match," Fuji says, hands folded in front of his small bowl of miso soup. "I tried my best… but…"

Naoto sighs. "Yeah, losing does take a lot out of you. I know how you feel. When I did football a couple of years ago, losing was probably the worst part for me. They always tell you not to be a sore loser, but I was probably the sorest loser there ever was."

"I try not to think too much about it," Fuji admits. "But then when I think about trying again, it feels like I become more dissatisfied with myself."

"That's hard," Naoto agrees.

"Maybe that's how Yuuta felt when he was still in Seigaku," Fuji muses.

"I think maybe he would have just preferred distance," Naoto puts in, thinking introspectively. "I mean, being compared to a brother who's considered to be a prodigy couldn't have been easy. I can only imagine how big of an identity issue it would be. It'd makes you really question yourself."

"At least he's doing better now," Fuji says softly. "He called the house a while ago. I didn't get to speak to him but it sounded like he was doing better."

"I'm glad," Naoto says. "Moe was kind of upset about his transfer. I think she quite liked him."

"I'm not one for reading minds, but I'd imagine he liked her quite a bit as well." Fuji smiles knowingly. "Whether it was in a friendly manner or in a romantic manner I couldn't tell you, though."

"Well, I'm not one to invest myself in her relationships," Naoto says, rolling his eyes. "Now eat up. You haven't touched any of these side dishes."

"You're the one that graduated," Fuji points out, smiling. "So you're allowed to eat more."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Naoto says, clapping his hands together. "Good on you, Fuji. You've done well."

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all," Fuji replies.

Naoto's chopsticks still for a split second. "Yeah. Yeah. Of course."

It's been a long day.

.

 _I just realised. Today was my last day of middle school._

… _Well, you did have your ceremony and everything today, senpai._

 _Well yeah. I probably won't see you for a while. You said today you had, what, summer practice and stuff like that, right? You'll be in your third year._

 _That's correct._

 _You figured out what high school you might be going to, yet?_

 _Still figuring that out._

 _Oh. Well, good luck with everything then._

 _Thank you. It's been a fruitful year, senpai._

 _Has it?_

 _Don't you think so?_

 _…_

 _Yeah. I guess it has._

 _See you around, then. (_ _笑_ _)_

 _All right. See you. (_ _笑_ _)_

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

 _tbc_


	6. chapter1

**notes** hi it's been a while

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

 **chapter 1**

In another life, it's probably easier to be dancing around the problems. The train station is full, but Naoto and Moe edge themselves onto the platform. He grabs her jacket to keep them together and cranes his head forward carefully. Moe's eyes are glued to her phone, even with the weak signal.

"Can you put that away for just a second?" Naoto asks, irritated. "Focus on your surroundings. You're going to fall, and I can't be chasing you around all the time."

Moe frowns and shakes her head. Naoto waits for a biting remark, but surprisingly, she doesn't say anything.

"What time is it?"

She doesn't reply.

Heaving a sigh, Naoto jams his hand into his pocket and fishes out his own phone. When the screen doesn't light up, Naoto stares incredulously; it's dead. "Moe, check the time, my phone's dead." They're going to be late for school.

Moe is gone.

Whipping his head violently in the other direction, Naoto scans frantically for his sister. His first thought is oh crap, she's fallen off the platform. It takes him no longer than a few seconds to spot her, but she's not really Moe anymore; instead, in an impossible transformation between space and time, Moe's suddenly smaller than Naoto remembers. So much smaller, and younger, and she's wearing the yellow hat and red rucksack. Her hair is tied up in pigtails, a hairstyle she'd stopped wearing since she'd graduated from her primary school. Her back is facing him. What the heck, Naoto thinks briefly before going after her.

It's hard; the platform is so packed that Naoto's vision is filled with businesspeople in suits and ties. For a second, Naoto loses sight of Moe again and panics.

"Excuse me," he pants, pushing past an elder lady to get closer, and he chases Tiny Moe down the aisle and across to the escalators. Suddenly, he doesn't see her anymore.

"Moe!" he calls. We're going to be late for school, is his first thought. Who cares about school, is his next.

Moe doesn't answer.

When he looks around again, it's less packed. How strange, since there was still no sign of any train. Naoto moves around with more ease, turning his head back and forth in hopes of catching a glimpse of one of her pigtails, or something. Naoto stops moving and finds himself standing, alone.

A figure appears in front of him, then, and in a desperate attempt to find his sister he grabs them by the shoulder and pulls them around.

"Hey—"

But he stops. The words die on his lips.

"Nii-chan!"

Naoto is jolted awake and his eyes snap open so fast that he's overcome by a wave of nausea. He's back in his room. The bathroom door is open and his pillow is on the floor.

"What…" he begins to say.

"You're going to be late for school!"

Confused, Naoto looks into Moe's face. She's back to normal – her hair's up in a ponytail, and she's wearing her Seigaku uniform. She's got her arms crossed over her chest and there are dark circles under her eyes. She must have been staying up last night, Naoto thinks. He drags his legs over the side of his bed and sits up.

"Hey. When was the last time you wore pigtails?"

Moe looks confused. "What are you saying? Are you dumb?"

"Was it elementary school?"

"Probably." She looks at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Hm. "No reason," he says, and lies back down. Moe's already prancing away and out his door. A few moments later, she pokes her head back in.

"Breakfast is ready."

"So?"

Moe's eyes lower. "You're not going to go to school?"

 _Hah_. Naoto turns his head back into his pillow. "No," he says.

The decision isn't that hard to make.

.

Naoto is a shitty high school student. I don't know anyone who's just really bad at being a student, Moe, who is an overachieving third year middle school student, replies when he confesses this to her. Honestly, it's not the most enlightening news ever. The thing about it is that Tokuda Naoto's grades are average, and even less average is his attendance on record.

And that's just it.

His parents aren't happy (are they ever?) and neither are his teachers. "His grades aren't bad," his teachers write, "and he has potential. But his effort..." Which sums it up almost perfectly.

The only real thing he has going on for him is football, which he'd picked back up since entering high school, and even, things could be better.

"You're great on the court," his coach says, shaking his head as he stares at Naoto's attendance record, "but if you're not even going to class, then what's the point? Get it together, Tokuda. I hate having to lose talented players." And he says it like it's _his_ reputation at stake, Naoto realises. Like if he lost Naoto to attendance record it would be Naoto's fault for not playing for his sake. How self-centered of him.

He's contemplating giving up when a repetitive _pok-pok_ noise disrupts his thinking. Naoto looks up, irritated.

Fuji Syuusuke looks back at him, balancing a tennis ball on his racquet. "Hello."

For a moment, Naoto is taken back to his middle school years – a slightly mature-looking Fuji Syuusuke replaces the smaller, younger one in his memory. It takes him a while to align the two, but in the end, he's not so irritated anymore.

Even so, he doesn't know what to say. "…Hi?"

Fuji chuckles. "Hello, senpai."

…Oh, right. They're back at the same school. (Sometimes Naoto forgets that he's a senpai.) It's barely been a month since the school year's begun. He's surprised they didn't run into each other earlier. "So you ended up enrolling in Seigaku High."

"Yes. You joined the football team."

Naoto blinks. "Yeah. I didn't think you'd notice."

"Moe-chan told me."

 _Moe-chan_. "Oh, is that right? She's always had a blabbermouth."

"She also talks about your girlfriend and how she's too good for you." Fuji says. "I didn't know you started dating anyone."

"Ashida?" Yeah, he hadn't seen that coming, either. He doesn't regret it, though. He's always liked her relatively well; they'd always been good friends. They say if you spend time with someone you learn to like them more. Right? "Yeah, a lot of things change in two years." He pats the space next to him invitingly. "You can sit, if you want. I don't bite."

Fuji approaches wordlessly and seats himself carefully. The silence is strange and uncomfortable for a few moments. Naoto fidgets restlessly, leaning back to observe the newer changes he sees in Fuji Syuusuke. His presence is stronger, and his gaze is firm. The baby-faced thirteen-year old is gone, replaced by a sharp jawline and toned, lean biceps. He looks less fragile.

Naoto taps his feet.

"Why are you here?" he asks finally. He suspects it's because Moe's told him something else; Nii-chan's been skiving off class, she might say. Nii-chan's getting kicked off the soccer team because his attendance is bad. Nii-chan will embarrass me at school next year.

Fuji speaks slowly. "She says you don't care, anymore."

Naoto stares.

(Moe, with her big eyes, walking solemnly next to her beloved Fuji Syuusuke-senpai, and she says, hesitatingly, "Nii-chan doesn't care about anything anymore.")

"Why?"

Naoto doesn't know how to answer the question. "Like a light that's died, my soul went out with it." He drags the words out dramatically, so that Fuji might take it as a joke. He accompanies the phrase with a dry chuckle. "Kind of like I'm a ghost."

Fuji is not laughing.

He tries to change the subject; if he's in control, there's nothing to be afraid of. "How's your kid brother?"

Fuji hesitates. "Yuuta is doing fine."

"Is he happy?"

Fuji nods.

"Good," Naoto says. "I'm glad. Have you been playing tennis all this time?"

Again, he nods.

"Do you enjoy it?"

Fuji smiles a little. Naoto takes his answer as a yes. "We won Nationals last year," Fuji explains.

"Good for you," Naoto says, reaching over to pat Fuji's shoulder. It's still a little awkward. "I'm proud."

"Senpai," Fuji says, speaking up finally. "Are you all right?"

Naoto is taken aback. "Sorry?"

Fuji shrugs Naoto's hand off his shoulder. "How have you been doing?"

Um. "Good," Naoto says slowly. "What are you getting at?"

"Have you been well?"

Fuji's voice awakens a rush of emotion in his stomach. Suddenly, Naoto is struck, surrounded by too many thoughts—Ashida, wanting to walk home with him after school, kissing her when no one's looking—his parents, who no longer speak to him at home—his coach, turning his back on him—it's the change he's scared of, it's that he'll never grow up to have a decent job, to be a decent person, to get into a university, to make his parents proud, to be a good role model, and then there's Moe, whose happiness, whose future is so big, so overshadowing, and he can't—

"Senpai. Tokuda-senpai."

Naoto opens his eyes.

Fuji Syuusuke has a grip on his wrist. He's shaking. Or is it Naoto?

Naoto lets out a shaky breath. "Yes," he says. "Sorry. What were we talking about?"

Fuji's eyebrows furrow. His eyes are wide open. Not for the first time, Naoto notices that they're blue. "I wasn't saying anything."

Oh. Okay. "Okay," Naoto breathes.

Fuji's eyes close again. He seems relieved. "Did you have something you wanted to say?"

He didn't. "I did," Naoto says. The distance between them is smaller, now. Taking a deep breath and shaking away his fears, Naoto turns his head towards the setting sun and suddenly realises his surroundings. "Where are we?"

"The tennis courts."

"Oh." Naoto looks across; it's a vast space. Even the football court doesn't seem as large in comparison. "Do you ever get lonely, when you're fighting by yourself?" It's a strange question, even for him. Tokuda Naoto. He feels small in his own body.

Naoto looks at Fuji's face. He's remembering a battle, Naoto can tell. Fuji's quiet for a very long time, and then he smiles a little. He only ever smiles a little, Naoto knows – even now, he still knows.

"It's difficult," Fuji admits. "It _is_ lonely… but you're never alone." He scuffles to the left. "You know, it's a much smaller space when you're actually out there."

"That's what they all say," Naoto says. But he feels better, somehow. "Thanks."

"Of course," Fuji says in reply, and it's like they've gone back to two years ago. It's nostalgic, Naoto thinks. But that's all it'll ever be.

"We've made good memories, haven't we?" Naoto asks, his heart no longer too heavy to carry. "I say this with the risk of being sentimental."

"You speak as though you've already lived eighty years," Fuji laughs. His voice carrying a teasing lilt and Naoto feels the hurt ebb away, bit by bit.

.

He apologises to his parents later that evening. Moe's sitting in the dining room in front of her notebooks, pretending she isn't listening to their conversation.

"I don't know where I am," Naoto admits. "But you know… I'm figuring it out. Or at least I'm trying. Like." He struggles to put it into words. "I don't know. But I'll do better." Sorry for being a disappointment, is on the tip of his tongue but he bites the words down. The bitterness has no place in apology. Even more so when he means it.

His father is quiet, but when he makes to leave the room he stops to pat Naoto on the back. A quiet form of encouragement. For Naoto, it's enough.

 _I did it,_ he texts Ashida that evening.

 _What, what did you do?_ comes her reply, almost immediately. _Tell me_.

He texts the same thing to Fuji Syuusuke. It's been over a year since they were last in contact over the phone, but he pulls up his contact information easily, as though the distance had never existed.

 _I did it_.

Thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Naoto's drifting off to sleep when his phone flashes, alerting him to an incoming message.

 _Good for you._

His sleep is dreamless and peaceful for the first time in months.

.

"Nii-chan, you're going to be la—whaaaaat are you already doing awake?"

Naoto's adjusting his hair in the mirror. His uniform's already on, his eyes are dusted with sleep, and his socks are on the floor. "Why are you being so loud, the day's barely even started," he groans. "Get out."

Moe's looking at him in disbelief. "You've never been up when I've come in to wake you before," she whispers, horrified. "Who _are_ you?"

"I just woke up," Naoto says, looking at her. Her hair's already done, and her uniform is free of any wrinkling. She looks like she's been awake for hours. So prepared. "I'm pretty sure you still woke up before I did this morning. When are we leaving?"

"In ten minutes?" Moe stares at him for a bit more before looking at her watch. "You still have time to eat breakfast, you know."

Naoto hasn't gotten up in time for breakfast in two years. "Great," he replies. "I'll be right there, then." He sneezes, once, and tries to wipe his hand on Moe's shoulder.

"Ew," she shrieks, jumping away from him. "Why are you so gross? Oh, hey, your phone's ringing."

He grunts and digs his phone out between his blankets. It's a text from Ashida.

 _Mooooorning, Tokuda-kun! Are you going to class today? I can meet you at the station in twenty minutes. Are you even awake yet? (^-^)_

Naoto types a quick _yep_ in reply and tosses his phone into his bag. He surprises his mother in the kitchen and filches the egg roll from the pan when she's not looking.

"And a good morning to you," she says, shooting him a look when she realises. Naoto smiles sheepishly, chopsticks in mouth. "You're up early. Has the weather gotten to you?"

"The weather's quite nice outside, actually."

"Shush." His mother cracks open another egg. "Are you going to school?"

"Mhmm."

"Really, now?"

"Kaa-chan."

"I'm just asking," she says defensively. "I heard from Moe that you've had a change of heart."

" _Kaa-chan_." He doesn't want to have this conversation. At least not right now.

"I'm just curious!" She brings over a bowl of rice, which he slides closer gratefully. "I mean, you've always had a good head on your shoulders for the most part. I told your father it was just a transition period…"

Naoto looks up from his meal. "You're not mad?"

She thinks about it. "You were always a little slow."

He frowns. "I want a lawyer," he announces. "I won't stand for this abuse."

She pats him on the shoulder. "There, there," she says. "Not everyone can accept the truth for what it is."

Naoto looks at her, incredulous. "Who _are_ you?"

His mother crosses her arms. "The person who waited nine months to push you out of the womb."

Naoto pauses. "Okay," he says finally. "I can accept that."

.

"So then, what was that message about yesterday?"

Ashida's eyes are curious. Naoto frowns. "Oh yeah. I messaged you."

"Yes, you dolt."

"Well." Naoto thinks about it. "It's actually nothing very important. I just felt like messaging you."

"Oh." Ashida looks down. "That's kind of sweet."

"I'm the best boyfriend," Naoto declares, winking at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Sure."

"Nii-chan!"

Naoto turns around, surprised. "How did I leave the house before you?"

Moe pouts. "I was waiting for Fuji-senpai.

From behind her, Fuji Syuusuke waves. "Good morning."

Well. This just got kind of awkward. "Morning," Naoto says back.

Ashida claps her hands. "Perfect! We can all walk to school together."

Naoto's eyes widen. Great. Even more awkward.

Fuji shrugs. "Sure," he agrees easily. "I don't mind."

As they walk to school, Fuji stays behind to chat with Ashida and Moe sidles up to Naoto, hissing at him discreetly. Naoto gives her an odd look.

"If you have something to say, just say it."

"Shht!" Moe hisses again, smacking at his shoulder. "I don't want Fuji-senpai to hear."

"What, you're hiding things from him now?"

"I'm planning on telling him I like him today."

Naoto stops in his tracks. "You're going to _what_?"

"Is something the matter?"

Fuji and Ashida have both stopped behind them, confused. Moe laughs nervously.

"Nothing, nothing! I just said something that surprised him a little and it was a joke! All a joke."

"A joke," Naoto echoes. It's not a joke, and Moe had just told him so. It's not a joke. He sees it in the way she talks about him, the way she looks at him. Moe doesn't make jokes like these.

Moe drags him a little farther forward as they walk. "Do you… what do you think he'll say?" she whispers.

 _How have you been doing?_

 _Have you been doing well?_

 _Thank you_.

"Thank you," Naoto blurts.

Moe looks up nervously. "Huh?"

"Oh, uh." Naoto shrugs. "I don't know. Just… try your best, I guess."

"Hey, nii-chan. What did Ashida-san say to you when she confessed?"

Naoto frowns and scratches his head. "'I-like-you-please-go-out-with-me.'"

"And what did you say?"

"Well, I rejected her at first."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't think of her that way."

"You like pretty girls," Moe points out. "Ashida-san's pretty."

"Yeah, but…" Blue eyes. Shaking the thought out of his head, Naoto sighs. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Moe squints at him. "Okay then. …Wish me luck, okay?"

Yeah. Okay.

"Good luck," Naoto says. Moe smiles at him and runs forward. Naoto raises his hand to the sky, catching a small beam of sunlight between his fingers.

Just as quickly, it disappears.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	7. chapter2

**notes** yikes. sorry. some kdrama-level stuff going on here. also, please tell me ashida and naoto are cute together. i think they're super cute

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

 **chapter 2**

"You got the kanji wrong here, Ashida."

"What?" Ashida looks over Naoto's shoulder. "Oops. Damn. How did you even know that when you're always sleeping in class?"

"I don't sleep," he argues. "I rest my eyes. Also, Japanese is my best subject."

"Who would have thought." She stands up suddenly and stretches her arms. "I think I need a break. Do you want some tea? I think we also have cake in the fridge. Want to help me finish it?"

"Always," Naoto says. "I love cake." He stands up too and scratches his elbow. "I'll come down to help you."

"No, I can do it," Ashida says, waving her arms. "I mean, we're at my house. Let me be an adequate host, okay?"

He ignores her. "Hey, is your mom home? I'll just come down with you to greet her, then—"

"Stop," she says, shooing him away from the door. "I'll be right back, okay? Stay put." She leaves the room, looking at him pointedly before he can hear her footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs.

Well, okay. Naoto sits back down and spreads his legs out underneath the small table Ashida keeps in her room, leaning back on his elbows. This isn't the first time he's been in her room, but it's always a little awkward when he's left in there alone. It's small room but it's enough for Ashida, who's an only child in her family.

Oh, he thinks briefly, catching sight of a photograph perched on her dresser, she used to do ballet. Ashida is much smaller in the photograph, her glasses encompassing almost half of her face as she beams into the lens. How cute, he thinks, and without thinking, picks it up. Moe had never done ballet, but somehow, the photo reminds him of her. A second framed photo on Ashida's dresser is of Ashida in middle school, wearing the Seigaku uniform that was too big for her narrow shoulders and the plain, green skirt that draped over her knees. She probably hadn't hit her growth spurt yet, Naoto thinks.

"I have the tea—ooh wow, that is embarrassing."

Naoto's holding the second frame up to his nose when Ashida's voice disrupts his focus. "Oh. Welcome back," he says, waving the photo. "I just noticed. You don't wear your glasses anymore."

"Wow, rude," she says, placing her tray down. "I've been wearing contacts since the beginning of high school! I had glasses on all throughout middle school. You didn't notice?"

"You know, as shallow and unobservant as this sounds, guys don't really notice things if you don't mention them first."

Ashida rolls her eyes. "Well, you know, you've made _that_ clear."

"Hey, no." Naoto puts the photo down and sidles up close to her. "I noticed. I just didn't say anything about it."

"Shut up and eat your cake, you liar." Ashida cuts into her slice with a fork and holds it up to his mouth. Naoto leans forward and allows himself to be fed.

"I love cake," he says, enraptured.

"Do you want to take some home? Mom says she could pack a few slices for you."

Naoto rests his chin on her shoulder. "That'd be nice."

"You're like a child," Ashida comments, but she smiles. "Now. Can we get back to studying? I'd really like to not fail my exams."

"No," Naoto says petulantly, but moves out of her space so he can sit across from her. Just as he moves, Ashida grabs the hem of his shirt and coughs a little. Naoto looks at her, confused.

"What is it?"

Her face is pink. "Can I kiss you?"

Oh. Naoto can feel his ears go red, too. Kind of. And… damn. Ashida is _really_ cute.

He leans in first.

.

 _"… So how'd it go?"_

 _No response._

 _"You don't want to talk about it?"_

 _Silence._

 _He sighs. "Moe, open the door."_

 _"… No."_

 _Well. Okay, fine. "If you think you can stomach something down at all, Kaa-chan says she has dinner waiting for you on the counter. Heat it up before you eat, okay?"_

 _"I want to be left alone."_

 _All right. Naoto holds his hands up, takes a step back. "Okay," he says softly. "I'm leaving."_

.

Naoto's perplexed, mostly because she's done the exact same thing before. Except this time, instead of crying over a bad grade she's crying over a broken heart. Big deal, although he only thinks this way because he doesn't know what a broken heart feels like. Above most things, Naoto likes his heart intact.

He's thought about it once: what if he and Ashida broke up? But that's different, he guesses, since they started out dating first. He likes Ashida. Her glasses are gone but she's still pretty and it helps that she's treating him the same. From friends to better friends (maybe best friends?) and sometimes, they kiss. She's cute because she's refreshing, he realises. She's cute because she's open about her feelings, all the time.

Moe's pretty honest too, Naoto thinks. She's just bad at being honest with herself.

… Which is why she's locked up in her room now.

"Do you want anything," he yells obnoxiously at her door. "I'm going to the convenience store."

Kaa-chan stands at the head of the stairs and gives him an anxious look. Did she say anything, she mouths. Naoto shakes his head, passing her to go down the stairs. She follows him down.

"I'm worried," she announces.

"She'll get over it," Naoto says, putting on his shoes.

"Was her grade that bad?"

"It wasn't her grade, it was a boy."

Kaa-chan stops. "A boy? Moe has a crush on a boy?"

"Since middle school. His name is 'Fuji-senpai'."

"The one that plays tennis?"

"Mhm." He stands. "Do you want anything?"

"Cotton wipes. How long are you going to be?"

He makes a face. "As long as a round trip to the convenience store takes."

"Say, do you know this 'Fuji-senpai'?"

"He's not my senpai. He's a year younger than me, from middle school. He's the one Moe was totally in love with." Is, he thinks. He's the one Moe _is_ totally in love with. Is still in love with.

"He turned her down?"

"Probably."

His mother sighs. "Well, we'll give her some time."

"She knows she can't be like this forever, though."

Kaa-chan swats at him. "Are you really going to behave like this? Your sister is a fragile teenage girl who's going through her first heartbreak. Have some pity."

Naoto makes a face and salutes on his way out the door.

 _So, Heartbreaker-san. How do you feel?_

It's a slow reply.

 _Not great. I'm really sorry._

 _Not your fault that you don't feel the same. I get it._

 _Did Moe-chan say anything to you?_

 _No. (_ _笑_ _) She doesn't say anything to me. Just locked herself in her room._

 _I feel bad._

Naoto raises an eyebrow and nearly walks right into a street light. The familiar welcome from the cashier greets him and he nods as he thumbs over the keypad on his phone.

 _For what? You were only honest._ _If you don't see her that way then you don't._ Naoto stops. And then types: _Why, is there another person you like?_

He's rifling through the stack of cotton pads on a shelf before he pauses.

 _…Never mind, you don't need to answer that question. I was just a little curious._ _Sorry for being nosy._ _But you didn't say anything like, 'oh, I'm in love with tennis', right?_ _Because that's like. Super lame. And I would judge you._

 _Well, then you'll be glad to hear I didn't say anything like that. (_ _笑_ _)_

Good. Naoto grabs a can of Coke for himself and a strawberry milk for Moe, just in case she does make plans to come out of her hiding.

"You haven't been here in a while," the cashier (an older lady that Naoto has gone out of his way to start friendly conversation with) comments. Naoto gives her a sheepish smile; he'd frequented the convenience store at least several days a week for a period of time in his junior high days. He fumbles around in his pocket for some spare change and drops the coins onto the counter.

"Which high school do you go to now?"

"Seigaku, still," Naoto tells her. "I'm in my second year now, oba-san. I've grown up a bit, don't you think? I even have a girlfriend."

Oba-san looks delighted. "Do you really? Did you ask her out?"

"No, she asked me first. I guess I'm pretty cool, aren't I?"

"Of course, of course. High school students these days are all very good looking." She reaches under the counter. "Seishun Gakuen is famous for its tennis players, isn't it? That's what I heard from some of the other ladies in the neighbourhood. Do you play tennis?"

"Ah, actually, I'm more of a football person. I have a friend who's in the tennis club though."

"Well that's perfect, then." Oba-san pulls out a small keychain and holds it out to him. "Take this."

"A freebie? Thanks, oba-san."

The plastic crinkles a little when he takes it from her. It's a tennis racquet and ball keychain.

 _I must have dropped it. Thank you for picking it up._

Huh. Naoto blinks.

Oba-san is still saying: "You could give it to your friend at school." She hands him his items in a bag and Naoto takes it from her, dumbfounded.

"Thanks."

It's a long walk back home.

.

He tries again. "Moe. You can't hide in there forever, you know."

To Naoto's surprise, the door opens. Moe stands in front of him, her hair dishevelled. And actually, she looks better than Naoto expected. She's wearing clean pajamas and it's not like her room is a mess or anything. Her textbooks are open on her desk and it just looks like she's been studying intensively for a couple of days. Upon closer examination, Naoto notices the dark rings around her eyes and the fact that she's only wearing one sock on her feet.

He hesitates to ask. "So. How are you feeling?" He holds out the strawberry milk to her.

Moe doesn't say anything, just stares at the milk in his hand.

"… Do you want it? I bought it for you."

Thankfully, this seems to elicit a response from her. "… For me?"

"If you don't want it, I'll give it to Dad, I mean—"

She grabs it out of his hand. "No, I want it." She fiddles around with the straw, glancing up at him nervously a couple of times. "Hey. I have a quick question."

Somehow, he's already seen that this was coming. "What is it?"

"Did Fuji-senpai say anything to you? About me?"

"Maybe."

Moe makes a worried expression. "What did he say?"

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you that."

She glares at him. "What! I just want to know."

Naoto rolls his eyes. "You know, you're pretty stupid when you're mopey. I'm not going to get even more involved by actively playing up the middle man role. That's not what I'm here for."

Moe looks away, bitter. She bites out, "Then what good are you as my brother?"

Oh _-kay_. Now that crossed some boundaries. Is that the only thing he's good for as her brother? The little flare of frustration that had been building up in the pit of his stomach flamed, and Naoto crosses his arms.

"Listen. I don't know who you think I am or what I am to you that allows you to think so selfishly. This is _your_ issue so _you_ deal with it. It's not my place to get involved."

Moe's hands are balled into fists. "I'm being _selfish_? I'm not being selfish! What's wrong with wanting to know what he said about me? You're my brother, you said you would help me!"

"Help you do what?! I never said anything about helping you 'win Fuji Syuusuke's' heart. I'm not obligated to tell you anything. This issue is between the two of you. If you really want to know, you should go ask him yourself!"

Moe's face crumples up. "You're being mean!"

"I'm not being mean, I'm being logical." By now, Naoto's equally bitter. "If he rejected you and that's not something you can handle, then maybe you need some time away to reflect. Maybe you need to clear some things up with him. That's something you can ask him, instead of coming crying to me."

"It's not my fault! That I like him!" Moe screams. "I can't control this! Is it my fault that I want to know? Is it my fault that I was turned down? What did I even do wrong?" She starts sobbing. "I just want to stop feeling like this."

"Like what," Naoto snaps, "like you've been rejected?"

Moe snaps her head up to glare at him with her red-rimmed eyes. "I _hate_ you! Get _out_!" With that, she shoves him out of the doorway and slams her door shut.

Naoto huffs angrily and storms down the stairs. Kaa-chan's waiting for him, eyes wide. His father also raises his head to look at him.

"What was _that_ ruckus about?" Tou-san asks.

Naoto sits down at the foot of the stairs and makes a frustrated noise. "What," he mutters to himself. "Is it my fault for not wanting to be involved?"

Kaa-chan crouches down next to him and strokes his back soothingly. "It's hard, isn't it," she says. "That's okay." She hums a little under her breath and says, then, "You'll be okay too, Naoto."

And as though she'd procured some sort of healing balm, all of Naoto's anger vanishes miraculously. And it sounds childish even to his own ears, but he says, "You know what? She's mean to me, too."

Kaa-chan nods, understanding. "Moe's a little bit precocious, so in a lot of situations she gets ahead of herself." She smiles at Naoto. "She thinks that her nii-chan will take her side, no matter how unreasonable she is. So she probably feels a little bit betrayed right now."

"I can't help that," Naoto grumbles. "She's spouting some nonsense."

Kaa-chan hums again. "Moe's lucky, you know," she says. "Because even if Naoto isn't on her side, he's always standing by her." She winks at him. "Wish I had a brother like that growing up. It means you're being a good brother."

"Wish it felt that way too," Naoto murmurs.

Kaa-chan only smiles.

.

 _You're in a bad mood? Why?_

Naoto sighs. _Fought with Moe. Wasn't pretty._

 _You fight with Moe-chan all the time, though. (_ _笑_ _) Are you feeling better?_

 _A little._

 _That's good. I knew about Moe-chan's crush on Fuji-kun though. She told me a while ago, you know? When you were still skipping school and stuff._

 _Did she?_

 _Yeah. She talked to him all the time. I guess they're not talking much nowadays, huh?_

He doesn't know. He hasn't spoken to Moe in close to four days. (She slams his bowl down on the table in front of him. Good morning to you too, Naoto thinks.) It's only a little awkward, considering he and Moe don't fight often. But Moe is stubborn, and she makes it incredibly difficult to even think about closing whatever distance they have between them. (Moe steps on his foot on her way out the door without a single glance behind her. Naoto sighs and wipes a dirty hand across his shoe.)

"You'll be fine," Kaa-chan had reassured him.

"I'm not worried about being 'fine' or not," Naoto said. "Honestly, she was the one who spoke out of line. And don't tell me to be the bigger person, kaa-chan. I deserve an apology. And if I give in first, she's only going to live the rest of her life out knowing she can walk all over me."

"Maybe," she'd said.

 _… Hey. You there? Did you fall asleep?_

 _No,_ Naoto types back. _I was distracted._

 _Oh. Okay. I'm going to go to sleep, okay? I'll see you at school! (^_^)_

 _Yeah_ , he writes. _Okay._

.

Naoto's in the middle of a terrifyingly boring maths lesson when one of the middle school's student representatives comes in to interrupt.

Thank heavens, Naoto thinks, sprawling over his desk. Ashida throws her eraser at him.

"Did you need something?" his maths teacher says, looking pointedly up from his textbook.

"Uh, yeah. Is there a Tokuda-san in this class?"

Damn it. His teacher turns in his direction and raises an eyebrow. "Tokuda-kun. It appears that someone is looking for you."

Naoto straightens. "Yes, yes. Of course." Anything to get out of class. "But why, what's the matter? Why me?"

"It's your sister, Tokuda Moe-san. It seems that she's been called to the faculty office for something. Just thought you might want to know that."

To the faculty office? Moe? Naoto leans forward. "What, is something the matter? Why's she there?"

The student representative cowers under his gaze. "Um… it might be faster if you came with me. I can explain on our way there."

Naoto stands up. "Wha—okay. I guess. Hey," he calls to the teacher, "am I allowed to leave?"

The boring maths teacher waves him away with a sigh. Pleased, Naoto springs out of his seat, winking at Ashida as he does, and follows the representative down the hallway.

"So what's Moe gotten herself into this time?" he asks, curious.

"Um, well, it's kind of complicated."

"Well, you said you'd explain."

The boy stammers a little. "Some of the people in our class were gossiping about her relationship with Fuji-senpai, from the high school tennis club. Tokuda-san got really offended and picked a fight with them. It started off a really big argument, and then someone threw a fist into the hustle, and they all started fighting. It was a really big mess."

Naoto's eyes are wide. "Huh. You know what, I can't say I'm that surprised. That girl's got an attitude."

"Y-yes, but then teachers got involved and she might get suspended…"

Oh. True. "Well," Naoto says. "That can't happen."

"That's why I called you," he says meekly.

Huh. "All right," Naoto says. "I'll see what I can do."

.

"We're not dating," comes Moe's voice from inside.

Naoto opens the door to the faculty office. "Well, I know that much," he says loudly.

Moe turns around, eyes wide in shock. Then she looks down. "What are you doing here?"

He ignores her. "You can't suspend her," he says to Kumamoto-sensei, who's sitting across from Moe looking stern.

Kumamoto sits back in his chair. "Hello, Tokuda-kun. It's been a while. I guess there's more than one bad apple in this batch."

Naoto blinks and squints, thinking he's misheard. "Excuse me?"

"You know, it's a shame; the influence you have on your sister really shows. Her grades are certainly better than yours, but it seems that you're both on the same train. Pursuing illicit relationships in an institution where you're all meant to be educated isn't something we do not condone, but when fights break out as a result of these relations, that's when we come in to take action."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Naoto says. "Moe and Fuji Syuusuke aren't dating, though. And it's not like either of their grades are dropping. I fail to see your point."

"I apologised for egging them on," Moe mumbles. "They threw the first punch, though."

"Yeah," Naoto says. "You can't suspend her." He grabs Moe's wrist and pulls her up from her seat. "She didn't do anything wrong. Have you called the girls that punched her in the face, yet? I suggest you do that before coming to any conclusions. And you can't suspend Moe. She was the victim. If your plan is to suspend someone whose grades are excellent, who was clearly the victim in this situation—" he points to her bruised cheekbone, "—then you'd better rethink your plan. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but it's not a very good plan."

Kumamoto-sensei is appalled. And before he can say anything else, Naoto bows quickly, pushing Moe's head down so she's doing the same.

"Aaaaaaand on that note, we'll be taking our leave. Thank you for seeing us, glad that this was only a misunderstanding. We'll be heading home now."

Moe stares at him. "Nii-chan."

He shoots her a pathetic, sad little smile. And with his hand firm on his sister's wrist, Naoto takes the first step towards home.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	8. chapter3

**notes** happy belated new year! another year, another chapter. seems like that's how it's been going recently. this chapter is particularly obvious about what direction i'd like it to go... although perhaps it had been painfully obvious even before that haha try to enjoy my writing is still terrible

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

 **chapter 3**

Moe finds him standing in the hallway holding a giant pail of water in either hand during her break. "Those look heavy," she comments.

"Yes, thank you for noticing that," Naoto says, rolling his eyes. "Hey, want to help me hold one?"

"No thanks."

"Some kind soul you are."

Moe crouches by him for a few moments, staring curiously. Naoto puts up with the attention for only a few minutes before sighing.

"Did you want something?" he asks finally. There's got to be a good reason why she's here, although Naoto admits he's not particularly curious. The high school building was at least a ten minute walk away, so it has to be something important if Moe's skiving class to come see him. He wouldn't ever have expected this from her.

She stands back up and shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, which is weird because there's never been _awkwardness_ separating them. Their relationship has been a lot of things but never _awkward_. "I didn't think they made you do things like this anymore," Moe says, pointing to the pails.

"Sensei's unexpectedly old-fashioned," Naoto explains. "He thought it would be funny. He called me a _class clown_ , can you believe it? Someone thinks I'm funny."

"Who would have thought," Moe snickers, and Naoto grins. That's more like it.

But then her face goes solemn again and she's peering at him nervously. _Nervous_. Hah. Now _that_ was the joke. Naoto gives up—both with his punishment and maintaining the "gentle" distance Moe thought they needed. Putting the buckets down with a small grunt, Naoto straightens and crosses his arms. "Okay," he says. "What's up with you?"

"I'm sorry," Moe blurts.

"What for?"

Moe looks at the buckets. "That."

"I was _joking_ about you holding onto one."

"No, I mean…" She looks away. "I mean, you're receiving a punishment because of me, right?"

Honestly, the punishment could be for anything. The last few days have seen Naoto dozing off at his desk, answering wrongly when prompted (for the wrong subject, too), and folding paper airplanes to throw at the back of Ashida's head ("Tokuda-kun, _stop_ that." "But when will you turn around and look at me?"). He's only lucky that his homeroom teacher goes easy on him for most of the time, and that his girlfriend puts up with him and his dumb antics. But yeah; it made the most sense that Sensei came chasing him after finding out he'd skipped school again.

"It was to walk my sister home," he'd argued lamely.

"Yeah, but if I let you get away with all of the stuff you've done this week and not tell you off for skipping school, then what kind of a teacher does that make me?"

"A nice and understanding one?" Naoto tried.

Sensei had handed him the buckets, then.

Now, Naoto crosses his arms. "Look, I don't care how many people you have fist fights with in school." He thought about that. "Well, I'd rather you not get into any more fist fights at school."

"I'm _sorry_ ," Moe repeats. It sounded more indignant, this time.

Suddenly, it was as though the wound was fresh again and Naoto was reliving the moment: _then what good are you as my brother?_ The anger crawls in his stomach, craving release, and with surprising composure, he asks, "Why are you even here? Why aren't you in school?"

"Technically, this is my school," Moe says. "We technically still go to the same school. You're just a building away."

"Then why aren't you in class?"

Moe hangs her head. "I felt bad."

Naoto lets out another sigh. "Well, good."

She snaps her head up. "What do you mean, _good_?"

"You're kind of a brat, sometimes." He looks down at his feet, now. "Look, you'd better head back. I'm going to be here for a while."

Moe hesitates. The air isn't clear just yet. "Nii-chan…"

Damn. "I know, okay?" That you're sorry. "Just give me some time."

"Are you mad at me?"

Is he? "Not mad," he says, though he's not quite sure. "But I need time."

Moe's face drops. It's almost heartbreaking. But he can't bridge the distance with sympathy, and he picks up the buckets again as he watches his sister walk away.

.

Naoto scores a total of two goals in their practice match later that afternoon and his coach looks pleased, slapping him hard on the back when he sends him to fetch a couple of spare clipboards from their storage closet. On his way back, he notices a green-haired, golden-eyed boy loitering by the door. He's wearing a baseball cap, shorts and carrying a tennis racquet, looking around at the football field as though he's never seen it before.

Well, Naoto guesses, if he's a tennis player then he probably hasn't. He calls out to him: "Hey!"

The boy turns around, and if he's startled at all he certainly doesn't look it, instead blinking slowly at the appearance of a stranger in his presence. "Who are you?"

"I'm part of the football team," Naoto explains. "I'm in high school. You look kind of lost. Need any help?"

He scowls, tugging at his cap. "I'm not lost."

Naoto raises an eyebrow and stares pointedly at his racquet. "Well, you certainly don't look like you play football."

The boy engages him in a particularly intense staring match for a few seconds before Naoto snaps himself out of it thinking, what am I doing having a staring contest with a _kid,_ when someone else's voice cuts through the air.

"Echizen!"

The boy snaps to attention and turns to the sound of the voice. "Buchou."

Naoto vaguely remembers the boy with spiky hair and glasses. He waves a vague hello and gets a bow in return. "Is he yours?" he jokes, pointing at the boy with the baseball cap.

"Yes. I apologise for the disturbance he's caused you."

"Nah, that's fine. Don't worry about it. He wasn't really doing anything, just looked lost."

The captain of the tennis club (captain, right? He'd called him 'buchou'?) shoots a sidelong glance at the boy, who scowls again. "Echizen," he prompts.

"I'm sorry," Echizen grumbles under his breath.

Naoto chuckles. "No, no. Like I said, don't worry about it. I get it, being lost. It happens. Although I don't think we've met before." He holds a hand out. "Tokuda Naoto. I'm a second year in high school. I'm also in the football club."

Tezuka clasps his hand. "Tezuka Kunimitsu, tennis club. I'm a freshman high school student. I think I've seen you around before. With Fuji."

Oh yeah. "Yeah, we're…" Friends? Is that what the relationship is? Would Fuji Syuusuke call them friends? "… acquainted," he finishes, smiling awkwardly. What do you call the guy that your sister has been practically in love with since middle school? Even better question, what do you call the guy that your sister has been practically in love with when he's the same guy you also kind of get along with? Naoto's head hurts. "We get along quite well. He's a bit of a troublemaker, although…" He shrugs. "I guess you would know better than I do. Hope he isn't giving you too much trouble."

"That's rather rude," a cheerful voice interrupts.

Recognising the voice, Naoto breaks into a grin. "Well, well. Speak of the devil. You still doing your airplane thing?"

Fuji Syuusuke rolls his eyes as he walks over. "Very funny. And I suppose you're loitering around, like usual?"

He's not wrong, really. But Naoto waves the clipboards he's holding over his head. "Of course not, Fuji-kun. I am running important errands for the coach, you see."

Fuji looks amused. "Uh huh." Then, to Tezuka, he says, "I see you've found the runaway."

"I didn't run away," Echizen grouches. "Momo-senpai hit a home run and Kaidoh-buchou sent me to go fetch."

"He got lost," Naoto clarifies. "I don't blame him; the high school campus is bigger than junior high."

"I wasn't lost."

Tezuka sighs. "Well, never mind what you were doing. You need to get back to practice. Inui's stirred up a new training regiment for you."

The boy looked away. Echizen's voice is small, almost pathetic, as he says, "I don't want to drink more milk."

"I don't know if it involves more milk, but whether it does or not, you need to hear him out." Tezuka looks at Fuji. "Are you done for the day, then?"

"I suppose. Inui let me go after he gave up on trying to knock me out with his new drink."

Tezuka's face changes and a look of what seemed to be distaste twists his expression only for a moment before he adjusts the glasses resting on his nose. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"See you."

Tezuka and Echizen walk off, the taller guiding the younger boy gently with a hand on his shoulder. Fuji watches them walk away, amused, before looking up at Naoto. "Our former captain," he explains. "And a very interesting club member. Some of the former regulars were called back to organise practice today so we stuck around for a while."

"Hmmm."

"Is your practice over?"

Ah crap. The clipboards. Naoto shakes his head and sighs a little. "I still have to take this to the coach. We've wrapped up the practice match, but he probably wants to go over some formations or strategies. Shouldn't take long, though."

"Oh." Fuji crosses his arms. "I was thinking I might be able to watch you play for a little bit."

Naoto blinks, surprised. "Huh?"

"You've watched me play tennis before," Fuji says. "But I've never seen you play football."

That's true. Naoto shrugs off the little bit of disappointment at the lack of opportunity to show off. "Guess it's different now that we're both on sports teams, huh."

"Unfortunately."

"I feel like tennis might be more exciting to watch than football, though," Naoto comments. "I watched one of your matches from last year's national tournament. Wild."

"One of my matches?"

"Yeah." Moe had forced him onto the couch with her, presenting a copy of the recording of last year's National Tournament. Fuji's image, so small on the screen and yet his presence seemed so big, even against the taller, white-haired opponent from Rikkaidai. It was overwhelming; Naoto had sat staring at the screen, feeling as though his entire existence was being questioned. It was truly a pity he only had the patience to watch through one match. Maybe he'd ask Moe for the rest of the disc.

Oh, right. They aren't on the greatest terms right now.

"Flattered," Fuji quips. "We were probably the strongest we've ever been, that year." He says it almost wistfully.

Naoto kind of understands. "Wish you could go back?"

Fuji doesn't deny it. "A little," he admits. "It was a good team. Everyone worked really hard, so it's hard to start all over again." He laughs. "It's strange. I'll probably play tennis for the rest of my life. I'll play so many years of tennis and for some reason I'll still want to return to that year."

"How youthful of you," Naoto says, and instantly regrets it; it sounds a little strange to his years, a little mocking, although unintentional. He opens his mouth again to try and apologise, but Fuji stops him.

"It is, isn't it?" Fuji's eyes are a little sad.

It's a little awkward, and Naoto bumps Fuji's shoulder with his own. Fuji blinks, startled. Naoto forces his gaze down. "Sorry, that sounded really insensitive of me. I didn't mean for it to sound so…"

"No, it's all right. I think I kind of understand what you're trying to say."

"Do you really?" Naoto doubts it; sometimes he has no idea what he's saying, himself. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended." Fuji's eyes sparkle as he smiles gratefully. "I haven't really opened up to anyone about my tennis experience. It feels nice to talk about it."

Naoto looks at him, surprised. "Not even your club members? Like that Tezuka guy? You seemed pretty close with him."

Fuji chuckles. "He's different, though. He sees things differently because he was our captain. We were also known as rivals for a while."

Were? "Not anymore?"

Fuji shrugs. "It's an old thing to say now. Tezuka and I rarely talk about how we feel about tennis, but maybe it's because we feel the same about it."

"Like, synergy or something?"

"Hmm, maybe." Then Fuji chuckles. "Although I think you and I are much more compatible."

Naoto chokes, completely taken aback. He didn't see _that_ coming. "Uh, interesting word choice you used, there." Damn it, what was wrong with him?

If Fuji even noticed Naoto's little panic attack (there's no way he couldn't have noticed), at least he doesn't choose to say anything about it. "Senpai is very easy to talk to," Fuji explains. "Somehow, you have a very calming effect on people."

Naoto is still in the middle of recovery. What the _hell_ , Fuji Syuusuke. "Well, that's the first time I've ever been told _that_."

Fuji smiles. "It's true. You've helped me out a lot."

For a moment, Naoto just stares at Fuji's face and not for the first time, realises how pretty Fuji Syuusuke is. His hair is a little wet, probably from sweat, and his bangs fall into his eyes as he turns his head. Fuji Syuusuke is slender but his body is toned, muscular but thin. A thought strikes Naoto, then, out of curiosity:

"Hey, why don't you ever open your eyes?"

The widening of Fuji Syuusuke's eyes is so subtle, so sudden that Naoto jerks and stumbles back a step. Somewhere along the line, he'd almost forgotten that they were a piercing blue. But here they were now: warm, wide, blue.

Fuji just looks confused, cocking his head to the side. "I do, though?"

" _TOKUDA_."

Naoto jumps—almost an entire foot into the air—and panics. His _coach_ , shit. Stepping away from the direction of his coach's loud, threatening voice and towards Fuji, whose amusement is shown all over his face. "Running errands, were you?"

"Shut up," Naoto mumbles under his breath. "I've got to go. I'll talk to you later, though." He pats Fuji on the shoulder gently and tries desperately to ignore the beating of his chest echoing in his ears.

He is so, so fucked.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


	9. chapter4

**notes** this is probably the longest chapter i've written for this fic! (it probably won't stay this way.) also look at how fast i updated LOOK (avoids everything reality has to offer me)

* * *

 **Praise the hermit, regret the friend;**

* * *

 **chapter 4**

Morning jogging is not something Fuji has found it in himself to commit to outside of his club activities, but when Tezuka suggests it, he decides he might give it a shot. He leaves his house at five in the morning and zips his blazer up to his chin. He raises his arms and gives a little stretch before jogging for about ten minutes, when suddenly Tezuka comes into view. Fuji slows down.

"Good morning," he says. "I thought I was going to meet you in front of your house. I was just on my way there."

"I had a feeling you'd be here earlier." Tezuka's shoulders are back and his head is tilted up, glasses perched delicately on his nose. It's a little unfair, Fuji chuckles to himself, that one can match perfection without even trying to. "How long have you been awake for?"

Honesty is the best policy. "Two hours."

Tezuka peers at him sternly.

Fuji doesn't have a very good excuse, but he tries. "I just haven't been sleeping well recently."

Tezuka looks at him for a little longer before sighing. "Something on your mind?"

"Mm. Not really." That part is only sort of the truth. But it's time to change the subject. "Shall we?"

Tezuka nods, and they head off. A new training regiment, Tezuka had suggested. Momoshiro and Kikumaru would have groaned at just the prospect. Ten laps around the park, five around the local neighbourhood, and then they would each jog home to fetch their bags and meet up to walk to school. "Tokuda-senpai lives in the area too," Fuji had said thoughtfully. Tezuka had looked at him with a strange expression, but he didn't question further.

The air is refreshingly cold, and Fuji can feel the strain in his ankles as he pushes forward, matching Tezuka's stride evenly. He'd expected the neighbourhood to be relatively quiet but it's almost eerie, the way nothing else seems to move. Tezuka's quiet, laboured breath keeps Fuji on his toes, and the two of them make their way around smoothly.

On their last lap around, Tezuka is the one that breaks his pace first. Fuji slows down to a walk as well.

"Does this mean we can get out of running extra laps in morning practice later?" Fuji jokes.

Tezuka purses his lips. "Very funny." He looks down at Fuji's feet. "Is your leg all right?"

At this, Fuji is perplexed. "Yes," he answers slowly. "Why?"

"Just making sure." Tezuka looks away, now. "Goto-sensei warned me that you might be feeling pain in your ankles. He saw that last practice match you played."

"Oh." It isn't untrue; Fuji had always had flexible limbs, so he'd always had to control the pressure he put on his body to allow for better movement on the court. "Thank you for your concern, then."

"It's no problem. Just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

Fuji nods, understanding. "Have you spoken to Taka-san recently? He's been talking about you."

Tezuka thinks about it. "I visited him in his classroom a couple of days ago to ask him about my English homework. It seems that he's been helping out more actively at home. I've yet to visit him properly."

"I see."

They walk along the pathway in only a little bit of silence, Fuji's steps just a little faster than Tezuka's long strides. He looks up. "Oh," he says. "I'm familiar with this path."

Tezuka looks at him inquiringly. Then it dawns on him. "Ah. Senpai's house?"

Fuji makes an affirmative noise in the back of his throat.

Tezuka watches Fuji, curious. "You're very good friends."

"Is that so?"

"You don't think so?"

Fuji falters in his step and stops. Tezuka stops too.

"Fuji?"

As though it hadn't happened, Fuji starts to walk again. "No, it's nothing. Sorry, Tezuka. I was distracted by something."

Now, Tezuka hesitates. "Fuji," he says plainly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I've just been…" Fuji pauses. "…I've been hearing that a lot. That we get along."

Tezuka is confused, though he doesn't let it show on his face. "Is it uncomfortable for you to hear?"

"A little."

To pry would be rude, and so Tezuka stops at that.

.

"Tokuda, c'mon, help me out with my homework."

Naoto grunts from where his face is pressed against the wooden surface of his desk. "No."

"Please! You're super smart. Even if you're super lazy."

If super smart is the equivalent of getting a 76 on his maths midterm, with two and a half evenings of studying, then Naoto would shed tears of happiness. But considering how Naoto spent the entire week with his textbook in bed and he was more prone to taking naps instead, he is unable to credit this grade to whatever super-smartness Nakajima is talking about.

Naoto turns his head. "I'm sorry, Nakajima-kun. I'm not very good at _y_ equals _mx_ plus _b_ , either. Graphs are just pictures. I just colour them in."

"What the hell are you even doing in school, man."

"That's what I ask myself every single day."

Nakajima groans. "What do I doooooooooo. I don't want to retake my tests." He slumps over for a moment before shooting up. "Hey, hey. Is Moe-chan any good at math?"

"What _isn't_ she good at?" Naoto narrows his eyes. "Imagine me as a guy with a super brother complex right now when I ask you what your intentions are with her, okay?"

"Huh?"

Naoto sits up and leans forward. "What are your intentions with my sister?"

Nakajima twiddles his fingers. "I just thought maybe she was smart enough to tutor little ol' me?"

"Dude, that's not cool. Also, curriculum doesn't work like that."

Nakajima sighs and resumes slumping in his seat. "I know, I know. I'm just desperate."

Naoto jumps out of his seat, wide-eyed. Trouble is in the air. " _Dude_. Not cool, I said!"

Nakajuma blinks. "Huh?" Then he realises what he says and covers his face. His ears turn red. "No—for a good grade, you dumbass! A good grade! If I don't pull my grades up, my mom's going to cut down my allowance. And I need money."

Ashida meanders back into the classroom, then. She weaves between the desks and pulls out one of the chairs, dragging it over so she can join the conversation. "For what?"

"For some new kicks," Nakajima explains, lifting his foot to exaggerate his point.

Naoto looks at his friend's shoe, observing it before shrugging. "I mean, it looks fine to me. Nice and school-shoe-y."

Nakajima turns to Ashida beseechingly. "How do you get this man to do the things you want him to do?" he whines.

Ashida rolls her eyes. "He's got a mind of his own, what can I do. He only invests in shoes with cleats, you know. Tokuda-kun is surprisingly uninterested in fashion."

"I also like food," Naoto adds.

"That, too."

"You two are gross," Nakajima decides. "I quit this relationship."

"We are gross, aren't we," Ashida laughs. Then she stands up, pushing her chair away. "I need to go. Student Council duties."

Naoto reaches out feebly. "No," he bleats. "Stay."

"I wish I could." Ashida reaches down to brush something out of his face. Naoto leans into her touch, eyes closing. "They need me to file out some permission slips for the Cultural Festival, though."

"Get someone else to do it."

"The last time I left someone else in charge of things, they messed up all the budgets," Ashida explains, making a face. "I ended up taking the blame and was sort of yelled at. I don't really want a repeat of that."

Naoto raises his head slightly, eyebrows furrowing. "Who yelled at you? I'll fight them."

"Violence is not the answer to everything, Tokuda- _san_."

"I'll fight them," Naoto repeats, but his head is already lowering back onto the cold surface of the desk.

"Of course you will," Ashida says. She pats his shoulder. "I'll be back soon."

"Mm."

She skips away, and just before she slides the door shut, she gives him a little smile and waves. Naoto squints at her. Nakajima watches her go.

"You know," he begins, "you're still gross. But I think you complement each other really well."

"You've been saying that even before we started going out."

"I know, I know." Nakajima rests his own head on his hands. "I just think it's true."

"What, are you jealous?"

Nakajima pauses and says nothing. Naoto, taken aback by the silence, turns his head incredulously.

"Yo." What the _hell_? "What does _that_ mean?"

Suddenly defensive, Nakajima puts up both hands. "Hey, hey. I didn't even say anything."

"What, you're actually jealous?" But of _what_? He's too scared to ask.

Nakajima is looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Come on," he tries, "let's drop this."

What was there to drop? "Are you—do you _like_ Ashida?" Because he can't. Naoto likes Ashida. Naoto likes Ashida a lot—enough to want to hold her hand, to kiss her, to…

Does Nakajima want that, too?

Naoto stands up suddenly, combing his hair back with his fingers. "I… need to go."

"What—come on, Tokuda—"

"I'm not mad." His heart is pounding. His head is pounding. "I just… need some time." Hah. Where's he heard _that_ before? God. Why are all of his relationships becoming such fuckups? Is he the one fucking things up? Stumbling out of his spot, Naoto beelines out of the classroom.

As he slams the door shut behind him, he thinks about Ashida and how she confessed to him at their middle school graduation, how she rolls her eyes at him, how casually she holds his hand. How sometimes, she'll swing their arms together and sometimes, when no one is watching, she'll tuck her head under his chin and press her lips against the exposed skin. How most times, whenever she does, he'll tip her chin up and kiss her, properly.

Then he imagines Nakajima in that position. Imagines how happy they might be, together.

It isn't impossible; Nakajima and Ashida had been classmates for almost the entirety of middle school. They were seatmates for an entire year. They shared inside jokes and laughed at the same things.

Naoto imagines a picture without him in it and feels sick.

.

Thinking about football is easy. Naoto slams the ball into first goal and feels absolutely rejuvenated. But all of that goes away once he catches a glimpse of Ashida across the field. She offers him a grim smile at best, and when their practice ends he meanders over sheepishly. She hands him a towel and he takes it, draping it over his neck.

To his surprise, she starts talking first. "You never tell me anything."

"Huh?"

Ashida looks hurt. "Why don't you ever tell me anything?"

"I…"

She sighs, flopping down on the bench behind them. Naoto mirrors her. "I heard from Nakajima-kun. He said you were really upset, but he wouldn't tell me why."

Hm. Naoto laughs dryly. "I can guess why he wouldn't." Good man, that Nakajima. It just sucked that Naoto kept ruining things for everyone.

"I try not to pry," Ashida admits. "I know that you prefer to keep to yourself, and I know that… I don't know. Anything, really." She lets out a slow breath. "But I want to. Like… like the beginning of high school, and you didn't come to class. You never told me what changed."

"That's…" Naoto hesitates. "Look, that's not important."

"It is!" Ashida insists. She's not even looking at him anymore. "I want to be someone you can depend on. I want to be someone you enjoy being around—"

Startled, Naoto bursts out. "I do!" Couldn't she see that? "And I…" He would have told her, in time. "And I… I thought we were good."

"We are," she hurries to insist, "and I want things to be. I'm just…" She hiccups, and tears form in her eyes. Naoto's heart _hurts_. "Oh my goodness. I don't know why… give me a second. Don't look!" She reaches behind her for her backpack and rummages around for a handkerchief. Naoto holds out the towel she'd given him, still draped around his neck, but by the time she notices she's already fished a tissue out.

She sniffles for a bit, and Naoto is panicking. Hugging her when she's trying to explain something doesn't quite feel like it's the right thing to do, but at the same time he feels like he needs to _do_ something. He settles for averting his eyes and tapping his feet.

"Sorry," her voice comes again, and it sounds so small. "I think I'm just insecure."

"No," and finally, he draws her into his embrace, heart reaching out to her. Naoto folds her into his arms and tucks her head under his chin. She curls into him, pressing her cheek against his jersey.

"I'm sorry," she says again. "I'm going to make your shirt wet."

"I'm sorry too," he murmurs back, stroking her hair. He's glad everyone else has already cleared out; doing this in front of his teammates would be beyond embarrassing. "I didn't want…" He struggles to word things correctly. "I panicked."

"Why?"

"Because I like you. A lot."

She looks up at him. "Will you tell me what happened with Nakajima-kun?"

Naoto hesitates.

"I mean, you don't have to…" She leans her head back against his chest, but Naoto can feel her shoulders slump in disappointment.

"I think Nakajima might like you."

Ashida's head jerks away from him. Naoto lets go of her, startled. "He… he what?"

"I was talking to him today. I think he might like you."

She's got a stunned expression on her face.

"That's why I didn't want to say anything."

Ashida is silent for a long time. Then, "…did you say anything back to him?"

Naoto sighs. "I left. I didn't know what to think."

Then, unexpectedly, Ashida's face hardens. "Were you…?"

Naoto makes a questioning noise at the back of his throat, but Ashida yanks herself out of his embrace and stands. Naoto is bewildered. "What," he asks. "What?"

"What were you thinking when he told you that?"

"Like I said, I panicked. And I left." Naoto steps closer. "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"

"You did think about it, didn't you?"

Naoto freezes.

"About whether I'd be happier with him."

…How did—

"I know you, Tokuda-kun," Ashida whispers. "I know the way you think."

"I didn't mean—I just—"

"But that _hurts_!" Tears are filling her eyes again. "Thinking like that hurts me. It hurts you. Why do you do it?"

"I'm…" A pessimist? A masochist? What's the correct answer? "It's… part of the way I am." Sometimes, it's like he doesn't even exist.

"Who even _cares_ about Nakajima-kun? He's dumb, and he's too tall for his age, and he laughs weird—"

"That's not fair," Naoto's voice comes out strained. "You're not being fair, and you know it."

"Speak for yourself!"

God. "I'm—" Naoto rubs at his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for thinking that, okay, and I'm sorry—I'll—" He'll what? "I'll do better."

Ashida sniffles harder. "I don't know what to say."

Naoto's exasperated. The sweat on his body has dried, his legs are sore, and he's sinking further and further into an argument that he doesn't know how to resolve. "Why—why are we even talking about this?"

"Because I chose _you_!" Ashida's wiping her face with the back of her hand, now, looking absolutely heartbroken. "I chose you! Over everyone else in school, over every single one of the tennis players, over everyone who's confessed to me—I chose _you_!" Her voice trembles. Finally, she whispers:

"Don't you tell me how to feel."

She picks up her bag and turns on her heel, stalking away from him as quickly as he's ever seen her walk.

Naoto is alone.

.

Fuji's just about to head home when he bumps suddenly into someone rounding the corner. He loses his balance, but he finds it just in time to twist around and land on his hands.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry—"

"I'm fine, but are you all right?" Fuji dusts off his pants and looks up into the wide, red-rimmed eyes of Ashida Megumi. "Oh."

She stands up quickly. "Oh, you're… Fuji-kun?"

"…Yes." Surprised, he stares at the tear tracks on her face. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm fine." She attempts a laugh, but it sounds forced and unnatural. "How are you? Are you still playing tennis?"

Fuji nods.

"Are you going home now then?"

"That's the plan." Then, venturing cautiously into uncharted territory, "Did something happen?"

"Hm?" She dabs at her eyes with the tissue clenched in her hand. "No, no. Nothing for you to worry about. Don't let me stop you from being on your way, then. I'm heading home a little later than expected. I'll see you around, okay?"

Fuji doesn't get the time to respond; Ashida runs away so fast he'd think she was in a sports club.

"Fuji."

He turns. "Oh, Tezuka. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Thank you for waiting."

"It's not a problem." He pauses. "Hey, Tezuka. Don't you think it's a little cloudy today?"

"I'm not surprised. I checked the weather forecast last night. We're expecting some showers in the evening."

Fuji hums, a quiet noise under his breath. "That's unfortunate," he murmurs. "The skies were rather clear this morning."

"Not fond of the rain, are you?"

Fuji lets out a little sigh. "I wouldn't say that."

They walk on.

.

.

.

* * *

 _tbc_


End file.
